The Suspirating Pillow
by Cerebella Kennor
Summary: Harry wakes up and is nearly lulled back to sleep by the consistent movement of his pillow. Then he realizes that his pillow is moving and freaks out. Ron convinces him that it's just a charm - except they find out that no such charm exists. Will they ever solve the mystery of the breathing pillow? Suspirating isn't a word; look up the Latin "suspiro" for an explanation.


**AN: So lately I've been reading stories wherein the protagonist wakes up, thinks pillows don't breathe, and finds himself sleeping next to some other person. I found this insanely annoying because it must have occurred in at least five different stories and kept on showing up. I mean, come on! How many times must people use the breathing pillow analogy? Poor pillows... Anyway, this is a crack-fic where I use breathing pillows in an entirely new manner (I've never seen this done before, so if it resembles someone else's writing, you'll have to forgive me). I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! **

Harry smiled in his sleep and cuddled up to the warmth beside him. He sighed contentedly as he was slowly lulled to sleep by the repetitive motion of his pillow rising and falling. Wait. _Pillows don't breathe_, he thought. He opened his eyes in alarm and saw Ron beside him. Yet, Ron was not close enough for his breathing to affect Harry (aside from his snoring, which Harry had become used to during his first year at Hogwarts). The only thing close enough to Harry was his pillow. _But pillows don't breathe!_ Once the connection was made in his mind, Harry pulled away and scooted back on the bed. "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" he screamed.

"Wha- what?" Ron asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. "Harry, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Harry shook his head, eyes wide.

Ron was starting to look nervous. "Is it – is it your scar?" he asked worriedly. "D'you think... d'you think it's You-Know-Who?"

Harry shook his head furiously and pointed a shaking finger at the pillow he'd previously been sleeping on. The pillow he'd been sleeping on for months now! Never had it done _anything_ like this before! "Ron," he whispered, "the pillow's _breathing_."

Ron stared at him through squinted eyes. "That's all?'

"What do you mean, 'that's all'?" Harry demanded. "My pillow's breathing! Pillows aren't supposed to do that! What if – what if somebody was transfigured into my pillow? And I've been sleeping on them all year?"

Ron sighed and tried to hide a snicker, but Harry heard it. "Harry, pillows breathe all the time. It's just a charm to keep it smelling fresh, otherwise it'd be right smelly."

"A – a charm? Are you sure?"

"Yes Harry," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "You made me think it had something to do with You-Know-Who! And you were just worried about your bloody pillow!"

"Muggles don't have breathing pillows."

"Yes well, Muggles don't fly on broomsticks, either, and I didn't see you freaking out about that!"

"This is different. Look, it doesn't matter. You said it was just a charm, so, so it's fine. We'll just go back to sleep."

"Good idea," Ron yawned, falling back on the bed.

"You could go back to your own bed, you know," Harry said grumpily. They'd been talking and eating candy late into the night, and they must have fallen asleep mid-speech, otherwise Ron would have gone back to his own bed.

"S'too far."

Harry rolled his eyes and was prepared to sink his head back into his pillow when Professor McGonagall slammed the door to the second years' boys' dormitory open and stalked in with two chastened twins behind her. "Which one is it?"

Fred and George stared at Ron and Harry with wide eyes. "What're you doing?"

"Aren't you a bit young—"

"to be sleeping together?"

McGonagall sent stinging hexes at their rears and demanded once more, "Where is it? If you don't tell me now, you'll have detention until you graduate! You've no idea how dangerous what you've done is! If you did it wrong—"

"We didn't—"

"do it wrong,"

"we promise,"

"Professor!"

"In any case, you're still getting detention for a month! Transfiguring students into pillows! You ought to know better! You could have killed someone!"

Harry turned to Ron with wide eyes. "I thought you said it was a charm!"

"It is a charm, Harry, I swear! My _mum_ told me about it – she wouldn't lie, you know that!" he cried earnestly.

"Am I to assume you've got the transfigured student in your bed, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.

Harry nodded and pointed to his still breathing pillow.

McGonagall sighed and twirled her wand at the pillow, muttering the counter spell under her breath. Harry and Ron stared in horror as Harry's pillow transformed into a curled-up Draco Malfoy. Malfoy looked positively terrified, though the boy was asleep. "Malfoy!" Ron shouted. "You put _Malfoy_ in our dorm!? How could you!?"

Malfoy jerked awake and screamed as he was faced with surrounding Gryffindors. "Wait 'til my father hears about this!" he yelled feverishly. "You'll be expelled for sure, Weasels!"

McGonagall's lips pursed before she said in her strictest voice, "The punishment of students is up to the Professors and Headmaster, Mr. Malfoy. Your father has no say in how I punish my students. As for that: twenty points, each, to Gryffindor, Messrs. Weasley, for an outstanding human-to-inanimate transfiguration. You'll have to work on the kinks – as Mr. Potter said, pillows shouldn't breathe – but full marks, I'd say. Now Mr. Malfoy, if you'll follow me, I shall return you to your dormitory."

"My father—"

"I'm sure your father would love to hear about your foray into Gryffindor tower, Mr. Malfoy. Now come along, I'd like to get back to bed myself."

Malfoy pouted angrily and gave one last sneer to the Gryffindors as he left the dormitory, slamming the door behind him.

"So... there is no charm, is there?"

"There is! Ask Fred and George! There's a charm to air out pillows, right? And it makes it seem as though they're breathing!"

Fred and George shared a look before cracking up, holding onto each other as they laughed and howled and cried tears of humour. "That- that was! Ahaha!"

"What?" Ron demanded.

"That was Percy!" the other twin howled.

"Percy? You mean you've done this before? But you were only first years!"

The twins kept laughing riotously, slapping the other's back as they couldn't control their humour. "Mum only said that—"

"since you'd have been scared,"

"if you realized that Percy"

"made such a fantastic pillow!"

The twins cackled and left the room, leaving Harry and Ron to stare blankly at the closing door. "So there aren't breathing pillows, then?"

"I guess not," Ron swallowed.

When Ron's pillow began to move, Harry and Ron screeched and slammed out of their room, rushing down the stairs into the common room and staring with horror at the stairs leading to their dorm. "Who could it be, this time?" Ron whispered with fright.

What neither of them knew was that Scabbers, after hearing the ruckus, had decided to vacate his spot under Ron's pillow to crawl into another, quieter, bed.


End file.
